


Etchings

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_kinkmeme, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-23
Updated: 2010-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jennifer and Ronon have quite enjoyable sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etchings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sga_kinkmeme for the prompt "Jennifer/Ronon, stretching. It's going to be a tight fit, but she's going to enjoy it." Thanks to sheafrotherdon for reading over.

He has Jennifer finger herself while he watches. Ronon doesn't order, or even ask—just guides her hand down between her legs and watches her face with calm, dark eyes while she works two fingers inside her. She flushes, cheeks hot, when she feels how wet she is already—inner thighs already damp just from the sight of him and from the careful, measured way he'd removed each piece of her clothing until she was naked and stretched out on the bed beneath him. Ronon gently pushes her hand until her fingers are as far inside her as they're going to go, then sits back on his heels to watch her. He doesn't speak—he doesn't touch himself, though his cock presses upwards, thick and hard against his belly—but Jennifer knows instinctively what he wants to see.

Her skin feels too hot, too tight all over from a confusing, pleasurable mix of embarrassment and arousal. Jennifer had had sex with people before Ronon, had enjoyed some of it; even has a box under her bead with a modestly impressive collection of vibrators. She's never been with someone like this, though—someone who wants to sit and watch her as if she's worth paying attention to. Ronon never takes his eyes from her, and Jennifer can't help herself, curling her fingers inside her in just the right way to make her hips lift off the bed a little.

Ronon moves forward at that, kneeling over her on all fours. "Hi," he says, and Jennifer likes this—likes seeing, close-up, how his eyes crinkle up at the corners as he smiles; likes feeling bracketed by the warmth of his strong body; likes how Ronon's dreads fall forward around his face, smelling pleasantly of the incense-scented wax he uses on his hair. They've been making out for a while, snatching moments here and there in the middle of Atlantis' bustle and hum, slowly working their way towards this point, and now that they're finally here, Jennifer feels a little overwhelmed. The urge to wrap herself around him—arms around his shoulders, legs around his hips, her face pressed into his neck—is strong, but she contents herself with pressing a kiss to the curve of Ronon's mouth, tugging his body down closer to hers.

"Hi," she murmurs, pulling her hand free and wrapping her now-slick fingers around his cock. Ronon is thick in her hand and Jennifer feels her mouth grow a little dry at the thoughts of taking him inside her. She's anticipating the stretch and the ache of it, the sensation of being filled up, the pleasure she knows penetration will bring her, but the anticipation is nothing like the reality of it. Ronon shifts his hips, pressing forward, and Jennifer tosses her head back and hisses. It's been a while since she's had more than two or three fingers inside her, and as Ronon enters her, as his hips slowly bear down against hers, it feel as if her whole body is waking up—stretching to accommodate him, nerves sparking white-hot with friction and pressure.

Ronon presses a rough kiss to her temple, to where her hair is already sticking to her skin, damp with sweat. He's bracing himself over her, arms straight and locked, but when Jennifer runs her palms down his back she can feel the long muscles in his back shivering. "Okay?" he asks her. "What do you need?"

Her laughter catches on a gasp. "You have to ask?" she says, wrapping one leg around and over his thigh. "I think that it's quite, quite obv—oh god, would you _move_ already?"

Pressed this close together, she doesn't just hear Ronon's laughter—she feels it, rippling through him and into through chests and bellies and hips. "Maybe," he said, cupping her breast with the palm of one callused hand, "If you want," and he is _such_ a tease. Jennifer can't remember now how she ever found him gruff and stern and a little intimidating. Now he's simply Ronon, familiar and well loved, funny and shy and teasing and so open that his bravery makes her feel a little humbled, a little determined to follow his lead.

"Ronon Dex," she says, tightening around him in deliberate provocation, relishing how that makes his breath hitch, "if you don't just _fuck me_ already—"

His next thrust is so deep that it forces a moan from her throat; the sensation is so delicious that she knows she's grinning like an idiot and she can't make herself care. "Thank you," she says, voice quavering, because she was raised to be polite, and that's a tough habit to break even when Ronon's ducked his head to tease at her right nipple with teeth and tongue. His beard tickles the skin there, his breath hot against over-sensitised skin when he breaks away just enough to say, amused, "Welcome."

"Not that I want to, to be pushy or anything," Jennifer says, panting as Ronon starts to pick up the pace, "but can we—" She can feel sweat trickling down her neck, can feel her hamstrings and her adductor muscles begin to ache, knows that she'll be sore tomorrow, but none of that can compare to how good Ronon is making her feel right now. Her orgasm is building, low in her belly, kindling hot and bright, and Jennifer curls as close to him as she can manage, wanting to be skin-to-skin with Ronon as climax begins to take over. Ronon's hips shift against hers, just enough to give her that extra bit of pressure she needs, and she comes.

He keeps fucking her through it, though his thrusts grow steadily more erratic, and Jennifer is still shivering her way through the aftershocks, relishing the aftermath, when Ronon finally climaxes deep inside her. It takes a long moment for them both of them to get their breath back, for Jennifer to have the co-ordination to unlock her legs from around Ronon's waist, for Ronon to be able to pull out of her while she winces and he grunts. He lies down beside her on her rumpled bed, brushes tangled hair away from her face, while Jennifer feels sated and dopey and breathes in air that's rich with salt and sweat and the smell of sex.

"Oh my god," she says eventually, when she once more has conscious control over the speech areas of her brain, "this is what happens when you come over to borrow some books?"

"Important," Ronon says, with his own variety of dead-pan, "Being well-read. Also, Sheppard said it was more subtle than asking if you wanted to see my etchings."

"Uh huh," Jennifer says, grinning up at the ceiling, "Sure. Say, have you ever heard about this thing called a book group? Because I feel like regular—"

"Jennifer?"

"You just want to make out some more?"

She rolls her eyes, mock-serious. " _Now_ you want to take the direct approach, huh?" she says, but there's no time for teasing any more—just the feel of his mouth against hers, his skin against hers, and Jennifer closes her eyes and goes with it.


End file.
